Temptation
by Lady Sashi
Summary: The flesh is willing, the mind is weak. I own nothing.


Temptation

Rogue had been broody lately, and it pained Logan to see her that way, cut off from the world because she felt it was the best thing for all involved. She was nigh unreachable in this state, and Logan paced the mansion floors at night, trying to think of a way to break the vicious cycle. He had been gnawing on this problem for weeks, when he finally thought he had found a solution.

Rogue was in the stables, crooning to the horses as she always did when she was feeling out of sorts. They didn't judge her because she was different, a mutant, a freak. They didn't mind she couldn't touch them and feel their flesh; they loved unconditionally and without question.

Coming in from the stables a calming three hours later, she went up to her room to shower and found the room deserted; just the way she liked it. Throwing her clothes in the hamper, she settled in for a long, hot shower. After draining the hot water, twice, Rogue emerged from the bathroom in a long terracotta robe, towelling her hair dry. It was then that she noticed the parcel sitting on her bed. Looking around, she bent to pick it up, someone must have come in while she was in the shower, she thought she'd locked the door. Slitting open the envelope, she read the note:

_The balcony, tomorrow evening, dusk._

She thought the note a little cryptic, and set it down to open the parcel. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string, as she pulled back the wrapping, she gasped in astonishment. Nestled comfortably in the folds of the wrapping was a single blood-red rose atop a pair of deep green opera gloves. Placing the rose in a vase, she hid the gloves under her bed, wanting to keep them secret to keep the mystery.

Coming down to dinner in decidedly better spirits, Rogue realized something was off; every single person in the manor was wearing gloves, and the Professor even wore a dark toque over his bald head. This made Rogue laugh as she looked around in utter amazement, Logan came up behind her, and gently removed her gloves. "You won't be needing these this evening". Like everyone else, he was wearing gloves, cotton; mostly everyone had either chosen cotton or fleece. "You!", she hissed, as he gently folded her gloves and placed them in his pocket.

"You'll get them back at the end of the evening", Logan gave her his best Scott impression. Playing along, Rogue, gave him her best mock-scowl, and stomped off. Dinner was comprised entirely of finger-food, and texture was obviously taken into account. Rogue licked her fingers contentedly, as she polished of her ribs, and moved onto dessert. She settled for a peach, marvelling at its soft fuzzy texture, almost too much to eat it. She spent the rest of the evening running around touching everything in sight, the cool stone of the statues, the wood paneling of the walls, the glass on the windows. She was even careful in touching the flowers; the petals were so soft.

Logan watched her with visible satisfaction, it had been tricky getting the whole school to pitch in for this little experiment, but so worth it. He watched Rogue flit from item to item, giving little butterfly touches, and gentle caresses. He thought he would never see her so happy, then he smiled to himself, secretly, and continued to watch. He was pulled out of his chair moments later by an ecstatic Rogue who wrapped her arms around his neck in an excited hug. Smiling, he swept her up, and twirled her round. Setting her down, he heard her whisper breathlessly, "thank you".

Still flying high after last night, Rogue had almost forgotten about that evening, and her mystery date. The day passed in a blur of activity, she had no idea how she ever managed to make it to that evening. She didn't know what to expect, and so decided to play it cool. She dressed in black jeans, and a deep green top, and put her hair back ever so slightly, with hairpins. Digging under her bed, she reached for the package, and pulled out her new gloves, they complimented her top perfectly. Carrying her shoes, she snuck out to the balcony to wait. Sure enough, as the sun began to set, Rogue saw a figure walking toward her leading two horses; one black, one white.

She was absolutely speechless when she realized that the figure was Logan. The black horse had a basket hanging from its saddle, and the white horse had flowers braided into its mane and tail. Rogue just stood there, a slow smile forming on her face, as realization set in. He held a red rose, and looked up at her with a cocky, malicious grin. Her smile grew bigger as she was reminded, simultaneously of the balcony scene in _ Romeo and Juliet _and the final rescue scene in _The Princess Bride_.

Gauging her distance, Rogue vaulted over the railing and landed at Logan's feet, presenting her with the flower, he knelt down to bust her into the saddle. It was completely unnecessary, she was practically born in the saddle, but the gesture was remarkable, especially for Logan.

He busted her into the saddle and they set off, "so, where are we going?", Rogue asked, Logan just smiled.

They traveled into the woods, and after a while stopped in a clearing. Dismounting, Logan held a hand out to Rogue, before tying their mounts to a tree, and removing the basket. He spread out the blanket, and Rogue noticed, he was wearing gloves, a different pair then last night, but still cotton.

Logan led her to the blanket and made sure she was seated comfortably before seating himself. "So, what's the occasion?", Rogue asked, munching on a strawberry. "Since when do I need a reason", Logan challenged, taking a strawberry of his own.

The conversation was light, as was the food; fruit and sandwiches, and salads. After they were finished , and everything was put away, they sat watching the sky turn dark, preparing for night, and sharing a bottle of grape soda. Logan passed the bottle back to Rogue, and with a silent smirk, she capped the top with her thumb and shook vigorously. Suspecting something, Logan turned, and got a faceful of grape soda, as it erupted from the bottle, and Rogue smirked in satisfaction.

Shaking his head like a dog, making Rogue laugh, he gave her a dark, mischievous look, and grabbed her around the waist before pitching down the hill. They laughed and Rogue screamed as they rolled, gathering more and more momentum, until they came to crash in a heap at the bottom, Logan on top. Rogue laughed, and squealed, "get off, you're heavy"! Logan smiled, and shifted his weight slightly, and reached up to pull a twig from her hair. In that moment he was so close, inches away, he studied her, with his keen eyesight, he could see every aspect. He could feel the warmth coming of her, and smell her shampoo; inches away.

He licked his lip, did he dare?

Her mutation had a delay factor, so if he timed it just right….

A few seconds wouldn't be enough, not nearly enough.

What he wanted to do would take hours….

He closed his eyes, he felt frozen.

He felt torn.

Inches away….

He drew closer, until they were almost touching, parted his lips…..

And pulled away.

He pulled her to her feet, "come on, kid, we better get back". Rogue followed him up the hill, stumbling in her fatigue. Sighing, Logan moved the basket to her horse, removed the blanket, and tied the reigns to his horse. Wrapping Rogue up, he lifted her into the saddle, before climbing up behind her. As they settled into the motions of travel, Rouge began to doze against him, as his arm encircled her. She burrowed against him, and murmured softly, as Logan sighed and grit his teeth, this was going to be a long night. As they rode, Rogue's hair fell across her face, and he absently swept it out of the way, tracing her jaw line ever so slowly. When she began to slide, he tightened his grip and shifted her weight, careful to keep his hand on her waist and not an inch lower or higher. When she turned in the saddle and ran her hand absently down his cheek, purring something in that southern drawl of hers, he almost lost it, but then he caught sight of the manor.

Taking her down from the saddle, he carried her to her room, thankful that mo one was up, and even contemplated taking her to his room, but felt the temptation would be too great. The fact that she shared a room was a bit of a problem, but kitty slept like a log, and Jubilee snored like a chainsaw.

Screw it, he turned into his room and lay Rogue on the bed, removing her shoes, socks and the blanket before tucking her in. He would sleep on the floor, in the shower with cold water running, downstairs on the sofa, or outside if need be, but she would stay here.

Almost as an afterthought he thought about removing her gloves, she never slept with them on anyway, and he was wearing his. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back the covers and slowly, gently began to loosen the fabric. He got goose bumps as he pulled her glove away to reveal pale white skin. He remembered hearing something about unexposed areas that didn't get seen often were the most exotic, which is why all the guys used to go crazy back in the day when they saw a woman's ankle. He used to think those guys were crazy, but now he was thinking they had a point.

The flesh of her arms, of her hands, was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen, he never took much notice of other women's appendages, but that's because he saw them everyday. This was a privilege. He ran his fingers tentatively over her skin, slowing the motion painfully, so that he could feel every molecule.

Pressing his lips till they hurt, he relinquished his claim and decided that downstairs, if not, out of state would be safest.

When Rogue awoke she asked no questions, drawing the more or less right conclusion. As the years passed, the Professor had one day of the year set aside as "Gloves off", where everyone in the manor, with the exception of Rogue wore gloves, but she never forgot that mystery date for as long as she lived.


End file.
